Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.

The Bachelor is Going the Distance

Chris Hanson arrives at the Hen House to announce that serious business is about to get really serious. There will not just be a one-on-one date and a group date, BUT ALSO a sinister two-on-one date in which one of the ladies, IF NOT BOTH! shall be eliminated from their journey of love!!! (Gasp! But let’s never refer to this as a “journey of love” ever again. Thanks.) Anyway, Chris Hanson will see you “ladies” in Las Vegas. K BAI.

So everyone is staying at some new(ish) hotel called Aria, and when the ladies arrive, Michelle the Villainess is right there to hurl herself into Wombat’s arms, of course. The rest of the ladies attempt to match her enthusiasm/crazy but fail. Some obligatory gambling shots are inserted here as ABC is contractually obligated to include them if they want 30 free hotel rooms. Wombat leads the ladies to the “playaz” suite in the hotel, which, if it weren’t being shared by ELEVEN WOMEN would truly be something, but, you know.

The Wombat puts on his very best date vest to pick up Shawntel to take her shopping. Hooray for some Producer having seen Pretty Woman during a crucial emotional developmental stage in her childhood! Shawntel is AMAZED at some mall icebergs, and it’s kinda a shame, because if she’s impressed by some stupid icicles, her mind would be blown by the Caeser’s Palace animatronics. Their date, however, sadly involves neither Roman Gods nor robots, but rather is just your run-of-the-mill shopping spree. Shawntel is being treated to her own 80s movie trying-on-clothes montage. WACKY JACKETS! WACKY UMBRELLAS! WACKY SUNGLASSES!

But wait a minute, haven’t the other girls all been emotionally traumatized on their one-one-one dates? Rob Zombie clowns, singing their dead father’s favorite songs, leaping off high-rises, FLYING ON PRIVATE PLANES AFTER THEIR FIANCE DIED ON A FREAKING PRIVATE PLANE!! And this girl gets to pick out whatever pair of $3,000 shoes she wants? WAS HER MOTHER KILLED IN SOME SORT OF HORRIBLE FREAK SHOPPING INCIDENT? NO? THEN WHY ARE WE HERE, PRODUCERS?

Oh, I see, jealousy. So Shawntel arrives back at the playaz suite and is all, “No big deal you guys, but this handbag that Wombat and not the producers paid for cost $5,000. Oh? You ate cotton candy on your private date? How cute!” before going upstairs to get pretty for her big nighttime date with Wombat as the other ladies either make comically dramatic sad faces or turn pea green and shoot eye poison at her retreating form. Marissa helpfully explains that some of the ladies are jealous, and the others wish they had gone on today’s one-on-one, as though this wasn’t the exact same thing. Thanks, Marissa! Whomever you are!

Wombat arrives to pick up his date and try to pretend that the rest of the ladies aren’t pounding glasses of white wine and resentment, and whisks Shawntel off to a magical dinner atop the casino’s roof. Where they discuss the process of embalming. The phrase “vein drain” is involved. SO SEXY. Wombat is all “ME NO WANT TO KNOW,” but Shawntel keeps talking in excruciating detail about her job and her cross-eyed cat (?) and so he gives her a rose just to shut her up. Hey! Look over there! Fireworks!

The next morning, the group date invite arrives to great consternation because the ladies are actually intelligent enough to figure out basic algebra: whomever is not invited on the group date will be on the dreaded two-girls-one-rose date. The group date arrives, reading “Let’s go speed dating!” and is for Jackie, Saint Emily, Lisa, Marissa, Alli and her Ba-donk-a-donk, Chantal, Britt, and Michelle the Villianess, leaving Sad Ashley and Dr. Tube Socks to fight it out on the two-on-one date. There is much sadness, because these two were “best friends?” Even though we saw NO EVIDENCE of this in the past few weeks? Sure. Because they are both named Ashley = instant bond. Like they were twins, both named Ashley. Michelle the Villianess is, of course, quite pleased at these developments and twists her moustache in delight.

The group date requires a drive outside of town to a … oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. A NASCAR RACE TRACK? Well done, Producers. WELL DONE. Saint Emily is unsure about this whole thing, because this entire date was designed to make her cry and OF COURSE SHE’S UNSURE, WHAT WITH THE DEAD RACE CAR-DRIVING FIANCE AND EVERYTHING. However, the rest of the ladies jump into their sexxxxxy race car driving hot pants, because WHO CARES! Only Jackie, the Rachel from Glee wannabe, has a moment of hesitation regarding Saint Emily and the emotional damage this might inflict before she shrugs her shoulders and is all, “Oh well!”

Wombat eventually notices that all is not well with Saint Emily once one of the Producers points her out to him and he strides over and is all “WOMBAT NEED TALK, EMILY. WOMBAT HAVE WORRY.” And so off they go while the other ladies glare at them from the sidelines while wishing they had a dead fiance they could exploit.

Saint Emily explains that it was a Las Vegas racetrack where RickyBobby’s career ended after a crash — not the crash that ended his life, just so we’re clear — and Wombat is all “WOMBAT NO KNOW. WOMBAT SORRY ABOUT DATE,” as though he, and not the producers, planned the whole thing. Just like Wombat paid for Shawntel’s Fendi handbag and Escada dress earlier. But Saint Emily is a trooper, and she’s going to get inside of that race car to prove that she’s ready to move on from RickyBobby even if it means she has to sob in her helmet for forty-five minutes. IT’S ALL FOR YOU, RICKYBOBBY!! And so Saint Emily manages to drive through her tears, and not leap out of the vehicle while attempting to strip herself of her notburning clothes, telling herself that she is driving the first couple laps for RickyBobby and the rest for herself. I’m sure RickyBobby is proud of you for making such a tremendous emotional leap for Wombat, Saint Emily.

BIKINI PARTY TIME!! Wombat immediately asks to speak to Saint Emily alone, and all the other ladies are all, “UGH, whom do I have to kill in a fiery plane crash while pregnant around here to get a little alone time with Wombat, already?” Wombat, in the meantime, makes a bunch of Wombatty noises about how he doesn’t want to be Cal Naughton to RickyBobby’s RickyBobby, because that will be an awfully big space to fill. INNUENDO! And Saint Emily is like, “Here’s an idea, genius, how about you not take me on any more dates that involve private planes or race cars, and maybe we can both get through this thing with an ounce of dignity, yeah?”

Then some brunette sobs at Wombat about not feeling special and how she loves him and Wombat and the audience both hold perfectly still waiting for this insanity to pass, and then Wombat explains to the camera that “WOMBAT FEEL BAD. WOMAN EMOTIONAL.”

Not long after, Wombat gives Saint Emily the group date rose, and the other women shoot mental voodoo doll pins into all of their ex-boyfriends in a last ditch effort for a little attention.

Back at the playaz suite, Sad Ashley and Dr. Tube Socks greet the inevitable: the invitation to the two-girls-one-rose date: “Come Swing With the King!” INNUENDO!

Wombat arrives to pick up Sad Ashley and Dr. Tube Socks, noting that while this might be hard — he knows the two of them are close friends — this two-on-one date is necessary to achieve his final goal: find a wife. And this is true. In our culture, a young man can not propose to a woman until he’s gone on a date with her and her best friend. It’s part of our culture, and it has been since Biblical times. Who are we to argue? Anyway, he leads the two down to the lobby to the theater where “Viva Elvis” is playing and they stand around watching a bunch of acrobats hop around to “Jailhouse Rock,” because, sure. The artistic director arrives and makes the three of them do some sort of awkward choreographed dance to “Suspicious Minds,” which in the end has nothing to do with anything as they will eventually be hung from wires and expected to float around to “Are You Lonesome Tonight” in front of a crowd who didn’t pay for this nonsense. I don’t know. Also, Sad Ashley explains that she has demons. I hope not literally!

So, the three of them head off to dinner, which is super terrible, and eventually Wombat decides to end the pain and give Dr. Tube Socks the rose already. Sad Ashley is … have you prepared yourself? SAD. She’s just SO SAD, Y’ALL. NO ONE LOVES SAD ASHLEY ON ACCOUNT OF HER BEING SAD AND ALL. WHY ISN’T THERE ANY LOVE FOR SAD ASHLEY? SHE JUST FEELS SO SO SAD. SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD. Wombat shoves her sobbing mess into a car and then runs back to Dr. Tube Socks whom he throws into a harness and supposedly dances with in this Vegas show but there’s no real proof this actually happened so we’ll just have to take their word for it.

In the playaz suite, the ladies are ready for rose ceremony time. In fact, Marissa appears to have busted out her tiara, and why not, you know? There is literally no better time in a young woman’s life than a Bachelor rose ceremony to rock a tiara. Chantal explains that there are “a lot less girls” and let’s just pause here and discuss the difference between “less and fewer.” I know, I know, big grammar talk from a blogger who writes 90% of the time like a cat. But this is one of my pet peeves, and everyone can do better. (Gooder? Morer?)

Wombat arrives and immediately is cornered by Chantal. WOMBAT LIKE MARY J. BLIGE: WOMBAT DO NOT NEED NO MORE DRAMA. But she somehow manages to get through his six inches of skull to point out that the ladies feel like he is ignoring the rest of them to deal with Saint Emily and her dead boyfriend issues. So, in turn, Wombat gives Alli and her Ba-Donk-a-Donk a cake? Sure. This makes perfect sense.

Marissa, hilariously, takes Wombat aside to explain that she usually communicates exclusively through texts, but because she’s prohibited to do that with Wombat while trapped on this show, she printed some texts out for him. This is hilarious because she thinks Wombat can read.

Michelle the Villainess takes Wombat into a bedroom and pulls out her best Kaa impersonation, insisting that he send the other ladies home, and Wombat is all, “WOMBAT SEND ALL THE OTHER LADIES HOME.”

Rose ceremony time! Shawntel, Dr. Tube Socks, and Saint Emily have roses. As for the rest of them, Wombat explains that “WOMBAT AT CROSSROADS. WOMBAT SEE SOME OF THEM AS WIFE OF WOMBAT.”

Which means Lisa and Marissa are roseless. Mostly because Wombat couldn’t remember their names.

Lisa can barely look at the camera as she heads down the Hallway of Rejection. There’s a great deal of crying and meaningless chitter about how she just wanted to find love and now she questions EVERYTHING. Personally, I question her bubblegum pink nail polish.

Marissa and her sports tiara gave up a lot to be here, unlike the other 67 women involved. And doesn’t Wombat know she works in sports? SPORTS! Every man’s dying dream is to marry a woman who reports on sports! And who wears tiaras! Because that’s not a huge warning bell at all.

Next week, dream dates to Costa Rica! And crying! And over-usage of the word “connection!”

Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.